


Let Sleeping Androids Lie

by Rhinozilla



Series: Detroit 07 [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Parent Hank Anderson, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), bear with me, some swears because hank, still figuring out how androids work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 12:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18700030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhinozilla/pseuds/Rhinozilla
Summary: A newly released update lets deviant androids move while in rest mode like humans do in their sleep. Hank thought that watching his partner toss and turn as he tried to figure out what “comfortable” felt like had been pretty amusing. The only problem? Androids don't breathe in their sleep, and it never really bothered Hank until now.





	Let Sleeping Androids Lie

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at DBH fic. I really like the idea of Connor sleeping like a human, thus I had to make it a thing that exists outside my brain. I haven't really written anything in a while, so I apologize if it's a little stilted, but you gotta start somewhere! These two knuckleheads just wormed their way into my heart, and I had to write something. I hope you enjoy it!

Hank had long concluded that his life was just going to be weird going forward. Some days it was less so, and other days were like this.

His living room was dark except for the bright screen of the TV. At some point, the basketball game had ended, and his channel flipping had landed on some nature documentary about penguins. The white, snowy background was the only light in the living room besides the soft blue glow of Connor’s LED, where he was lying on the couch, deep in stasis…rest mode? Sleep…Connor was asleep.

A couple weeks ago, a new software update had been released that allowed androids to better emulate the sleeping habits of humans. Apparently, the longer androids were deviant, the more frequently and vividly they dreamed. Not just replaying the factual events of the day as their neural processors converted short term memory to long term, but whatever passed for imagination started to bleed through, constructing the more random and unusual aspects of dreams that humans experienced: manifestations of joys and fears and wants and all that.

Connor had woken up one day nearly beside himself, rambling nonsense about how the DPD had had a swimming pool full of orange soda in the basement and how he’d been forced to use an old Etch-a-Sketch to take a statement at a crime scene, but the witness he was questioning had been a large goat in a trench coat…and, well, it had been hilarious watching the kid nearly glitch trying to make sense of all that imagery.

Best that Hank could guess through all the complicated jargon, movement was supposed to help them process the sensation of dreaming. As such, deviants who chose to integrate this update could now change positions in their sleep, including rolling over, twitching, stretching, and even vocalizing somewhat. Tonight was the first time that Connor had finally decided to try the new program…and it was fucking weird.

In the months that he’d known him, Hank had only ever seen Connor go into stasis while sitting up, standing, or lying perfectly straight and still. Hank had had enough of a battle just getting the kid to lie on the couch and wear pajamas instead of sleeping like a vampire in that damn jacket and tie. Even then, apparently androids didn’t breathe while in stasis, further making him look like a corpse.

This…This was somehow worse.

Currently, Connor was splayed across the couch on his chest, wearing one of Hank’s old red t-shirts and grey sweatpants. One arm was dangling off the side of the couch, and the other arm was pinned between his side and the back of the couch. One leg was locked straight and sticking out off the end of the armrest, and the other leg was trying to dangle off the side of the couch with his arm. His head was turned toward the TV, and the pillow was making his cheek bunch up. Every so often, his fingers would twitch or one limb would stretch out, eerily similar to how a flesh and blood human might shift around in their sleep.

Until his system fully integrated the new software update, Hank had decided to park himself in the living room with him, just to make sure he didn’t sleepwalk through the front door or punch a hole in the floor with all his tossing and turning. He’d been still as stone for about an hour now, and it only made the absolute lack of breathing all the more noticeable. Connor had said that the simulated breathing would kick on as a supplementary ventilation system to prevent internal biocomponents from overheating. Apparently he hadn’t reached that point yet.

For the most part, the breathing thing was just something to help set humans at ease. Hank always noticed when Connor switched it off, when he would get so wrapped up in a case that he’d forget those nonessential things like breathing and blinking and using inflection in his speech. It had only started to bother Hank now, when he saw his partner splayed out like a corpse with a clear lack of breathing movement.

If it wasn’t for the LED, he’d look like a human…a dead human.

Hank grimaced and reached over for the beer can on the table beside his chair and took a sip. He grimaced at the lukewarm taste of it, then chugged the rest of it anyway.

Connor insisted that androids didn’t need to be “comfortable” by human standards when in rest mode. There weren’t real muscles to get cramped or joints to get sore from staying in certain positions for too long. That being said, watching his partner toss and turn as he tried to figure out what “comfortable” felt like…had been pretty amusing.

Meanwhile, Hank’s body was already aching from dozing in the recliner for the past few hours, and he groaned as he pulled the lever on the side of the chair. The back of the recliner pushed up and the extended front retracted violently, dropping his legs with them. He grimaced and sat forward, feeling his neck pop as he did. He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, cursing the hour and the chair and the penguins.

The noise of the recliner closing stirred Sumo, who had curled up in front of the TV. The dog got to his feet just as Hank did, and Hank heard his claws clicking on the floor as he followed Hank into the kitchen. He flipped on the kitchen light without thinking and cursed as the burst of light threatened to burn his eyes out. He squinted until he adjusted, turning blinking eyes back to the living room when he heard his partner shifting around again.

The most advanced prototype that Cyberlife ever developed, and the kid appeared to be trapped in a blanket as he rolled from his front to his back on the couch.

God, it was embarrassing to even look at.

The lingering taste of room temperature beer didn’t smother all of the warm affection that bubbled up in Hank’s chest at the sight, and he cleared his throat to try and get rid of it. The warmth stayed, and he resigned himself to it, tugging open the refrigerator door. He grabbed a can of ginger ale and nudged the fridge shut with a foot.

Sumo whined, picking his front paws up and setting them back down a few times as he watched his favorite android go still again.

“Yeah, I don’t really like it either, boy,” Hank empathized, and he cracked open the can of ginger ale more aggressively than was strictly necessary.

The force made the pop of the can louder, and he half wished that it would wake Connor up. Yeah, that wasn’t fair, but he looked entirely too fucking human. “Comfortable” now looked like both arms up over his head and one leg dangling off toward the floor. His mouth was hanging open, but…again…without the simulated breathing…

Sumo whined again, tail swishing once. He looked from Hank, to Connor, and back to Hank.

Unable to stand it anymore, Hank picked it up one of the soft dog toys that were littered about the house. He lobbed it across the living room, and Sumo’s eyes followed it like a laser. The toy bounced off the backrest of the couch and landed on Connor’s stomach: not enough to wake anybody up.

The massive dog barreling across the room and pouncing up onto the couch after the toy? Much more so.

Connor grunted and jerked at the sudden weight, his LED cycling yellow once.

“Hnk—wha—mrph—crime scene…” he mumbled, voice slurring as he quickly went back under.

Hank couldn’t hold back a chuckle as he trudged back into the living room, turning off the kitchen light and dumping the house back into semi-darkness. The penguins on the screen continued to flop around in the snow. Sumo had made himself comfy squarely over Connor’s midsection, pinning the android deep into the cushions. Connor swatted at him, barely even coming out of stasis enough to open his eyes.

The hour was weighing on Hank’s limbs, and he decided it was long past time to call it a night. He finished the ginger ale in three long gulps, going to turn on the lamp in his bedroom for more light to see by. Returning to the living room, he rummaged around the recliner until he found the remote.

The two blobs on the couch had gone still again, and as soon as the TV was switched off, the blue pulsing light on the couch only stood out all the more.

“Rest easy, kid,” Hank murmured, finally aiming himself toward his bedroom.

He’d only taken the first step when Connor made a short, small noise followed by a shudder. With a click and a startup whirring sound, Connor drew a deep inhale and then sighed. The whirring faded, and he slipped into an even breathing pattern. Sumo, the big, fluffy space heater, seemed to have kickstarted that backup ventilation system.

And just like that, he was alive again.

“Good boy, Sumo.”

Hank finally made his way to the bedroom, falling onto the mattress and muttering under his breath as he tried to get comfortable.

Fucking android could sleep like a pretzel for eight hours straight and wake up without so much as a crick in his neck…

One long, slow, wobbly snore rattled down the hallway from the living room, and Hank’s eyes widened as he stared at the ceiling.

Oh…fuck…Connor was a snorer.

As the obnoxious, nasally sound continued to echo through the walls, Hank found that he actually didn’t mind it. He moved onto his side and closed his eyes. After that, it didn’t take long for him to finally fall asleep to the sound of loud, tired breathing filtering through the house.


End file.
